.o.r.p.h.a.n.

at least the truth is out.

you can't fault somone for being honest.

people's hearts can be so cruel.

this is what happened

when i came back into the room i was supposed to SLEEP in, there was this fucking awesome bullshit going on, and you know, i can stomach a lot, but i'll be good and FUCKED before i live in a goddamned METH house.

i can't say anything

except that this is the worst i've felt in a long, long time

i drew this

highway quiet

in oaklahoma, in ninety degrees, with windows down, the road creatures dividing us each with their wakes
a slip of muddy air against an arrowhead sky, greens then sky, greens, then sky
along for the ride
the silence and cigarette burns, the film in my mind when
you turn to speak, you spoke in black and white
caligraphy lips
a kiss
a ticket

a black sky with rising grass and rye
i
got to get on,

you never mentioned this, being alone,


in bare feet, pacific roads
green then sea, then sky, then
sea

i
got to get on
got to get gone, and you

better come back to
me.

zero effect

he's gone.



...


today was a good day. i got some good news from my employers about my position-- turns out i'll be mianly in charge of the creative design for menu and bardrinks!! I'll have a lot more responsibility than I bargained for as well. By september they want me to be running two locations.

crazy.

i think we finally found a place. a studio in the belltown neighbourhood, definately the bohemian mecca. it will have to do for a couple months until we can get the money saved up. the other kids in the building seem pretty nice. i just hope i will be able to move in tomorrow before check out at the motel, or i'll have to tote a suitcase, two backpacks, and two bikes around all day. i wish other people had a sense of urgency. i wish the people who offered to help, had.

seattle is a large city. it takes exactly 15 minutes to walk from central parkway in cincinnati to covington, ky, via the purple people bridge. not here.

the sound is an illusion; a mirage. anywhere you stand you feel like it's just down the next block.

mt. rainier was very bright today. sometimes the sky and the mountain are the same colour, so that all you see are the snow caps.

it's only a week, but it doesn't make any sense. am i being selfish?

i am- for the first time in a very long time- alone.

really alone.

...

i keep waiting. i'm looking for him already, as if i can catch a glimpse of his green sweater just around the corner. i think that any minute the door will open, and he will have told the taxi to turn around because he just can't leave me.

do i wish it? i try not to. his family needs him now. and i try not to think of his mother in law asking him to stay more than a week in cincinnati. i felt selfish when that made me angry. but i couldn't help it.

i only cried a little. i probably would have cried more, but i didn't watch the cab leave. maybe that's why i don't feel it so much. but instantly when i got to the balcony i ran to see if i could even spot the bumper of the car turning toward the highway, but no. it was gone.

....

and i don't know when i will get to see my baby.

mabyl.

i whisper her name at night. i close my eyes and i imagine floating to her in her bed and laying next to her and i sing to her and stroke her hair and hold her, and in that way i can fall asleep beside her.

...

i guess there isn't anything else to say now.

seizing the day

he leaves at 7 tonight.

i really have to start kicking ass in this city. i have to make people like me. i have to put on a good face. i have to be tough. i can't take any shit.

please send me some positive thoughts, i need them!

super cheating at solitare

derrick leaves tomorrow for cincinnati, for the funeral. he is set to return in a week, hopefully with our little girl.

in the meanwhile, i will be here, getting set up with my new job, and continuing the arduous apartment search.

if nothing else, the green tortoise hostel is an option. i can stay there for free if i work a little.

R.I.P. Izabella

earlier this evening, derrick's three year old niece slipped into a pool and out of our world...

Izzabella was a sweet little girl, with little curly locks that always hung in her eyes.

She was Mabyl's favourite playmate.

May the universe rest her weary little soul.

dans la rue de la Space Needle

we made it, safe and sound, albeit a bit tired and cranky.

now if we can just find a place to stay....

viva las vegas

we rolled into vegas about 7:30 pm, with an awesome temperature of 118 degrees.

this time was a completely different experience- instead of being tourists we were able to see how people live and work, which is just like anywhere else.

derrick and i renewed our vows in the Hollywood Chapel, which is right next to the Chapel of the Bells where we married each other nearly two years ago. they tried to sell us a bunch of fanfare but we just wanted a simple little ceremony, and thankfully the minister left god out of it.

so we went to Fremont, downed a couple side cars, and lost about 12$ to the slots. all in all, a good time.

Halfway

These are pictures taken in Arizona and New Mexico, and we arrived in Vegas around 7 last night. The trip here has been amazing! I found out that I think Oklahoma is a very pretty state, and that, just because certain cows are white, doesn't necessarily make them "albino".

I have some notes from the trip I will be publishing soon. For today we have a somewhat leisurely agend, spending most of our time drunkenly wandering in and out of casinos before we hit the 10 o clock bus headed toward Seattle!

C'est exquisite, non?!?!?!

seattle or bust

tuesday morning, 5 A.M., and we'll be gone.

i saw a bumper sticker today that said, "People who have given up on their dreams will make you abandon yours."

how many years has it been, i wonder?

go west: go home.

mandy goes home.

i hate cincinnati.

i want to be rid of this infernal city

la vie bohem

im learning that it is a lie.

maybe im not cut out for it.

la bohemia seemed so glamorous-- i dont know if thats the right word-- anti-glamorous and real. knowing about important things, discussing these things, using big words, ordering complicated espresso drinks, forcing myself to love black coffee and quietly and arduously developing my palate. smoking foreign cigarettes, speaking lovingly of my own experience while sizeing up those of others as better or worse than my own. tattoos, piercngs, coloured hair, angst.

what has it all amounted to?

i am ignored by the raging alcoholics who have ordered five drinks from me by ten thirty, branded with more tattoos than me, with their cool air of a difficult life, woodcuts.

no one cares, and no one ever has. i have wrongly thought otherwise of many people. at some point, i thought, it would stop making me sad.

all the kids now in their punk rock uniforms, their moussed black hair, their recycled cordourory sling bags, their cars with stickers of unpronounceable band names, who look at you incredulously or amused or both that you dont know who SANDPISS is, who speak like they recently had a lobotomy, who like to tell you stories about their friends drunk uncles that did the prison tattoos on their backs, young girls who think they are invincible, in control, or whatever else.

id like to tell them it wont get them anywhere. that living in your car is awesome, and its funny the first couple times you get thrown out of a UDF for showering in their bathrooms. a gun in your face builds character.

no one cares and no one ever has.

...

still here

hello out there.

...

collecting stains

i bought a bleach pen,

i hate it, because it doesn't work well.

of course i boguht the kroger brand pen. im thinking of cashing in on that money back guarantee.

so i have a cut on my leg from taking the trash out-- someone was being awesome and threw broken glass in a bag and it swung and scratched me.

this has happened before- i have a scar on my thumb when a bit of rogue glass nearly took half of it away from me.

i read a smal book on tide pools today. i learned that an octopus will eat a crab.

thats very interesting.

white oleander

im reading the novel by janet fitch.

every page is another memory of myself.

i have felt that kind of loss and sorrow and pain.

i read until i cry, and i try not to read any farther, but i can't help it.

i feel like if i can jump into the book and love Astrid i will be healed.




so far there is no healing, only half sticky banages that keep falling off, and a singing voice i used to have purloined by cigarettes and sadness.

rabbit, rabbit

alright june.

you better not suck.
(stay away from seroquel)